Judy Christenberry - The Texan's Suite Romance

“Good morning, Dr. Myerson,” she said, smiling.

He looked up, letting his gaze cover her from head to toe. Then he muttered, “Not interested.”

Startled by his response, Tabitha stammered, “I—I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t know where you got my name, but I don’t want to make any new friends today. I’m leaving town.”

“Of course you are. With me.” Why was he acting so strangely?

He stood and looked down at her. “Lady, I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know you.”

“Didn’t Mona tell you?” Tabitha couldn’t believe Mona would forget that important part.

“Tell me what?”

“About the accident…and the tour.”

“The last I heard from Mona was a few days ago when she gave me my ticket for the first flight.”

Tabitha sat down hurriedly, not sure her knees could hold her. She pulled out Mona’s cell phone and dialed her number at the hospital. “Mona, you forgot to tell Dr. Myerson!”

“Oh, Tabitha, I took pain pills last night and fell asleep before I could call!”

“He’s here with me now, Mona. Can you explain to him what happened?”

She handed the phone to Dr. Myerson, who didn’t look as though he wanted to talk to Mona.

“Hello?” he snapped as he took the phone.

Tabitha sat wondering if this tour was to be the shortest one on record, ending only minutes after it had begun.

“We will now begin boarding Flight one-nine-eight to San Francisco. All first-class passengers are invited to board now, please.”

Tabitha stood and reached out for the phone. “I’m sorry, but we have to board now.”

He handed her the phone, not looking any happier than he’d been before he learned of Mona’s accident. He folded the newspaper he’d been reading, stuck it under his arm, picked up his laptop and headed for the gate without saying a word.

Okay, so the good doctor had major attitude.

Tabitha picked up her briefcase and followed him onto the plane. He might think he could ignore her, but he had another think coming.

Alex knew he’d been rude. But the events of the morning were a complete disaster. He hadn’t wanted to go on this tour in the first place, despite his publisher’s insistence.

After he’d met Mona, he’d finally agreed. A pleasant woman approaching fifty, Mona didn’t flirt or try to get too personal. In fact, she’d assured him she was only there to make his trip run smoothly.

Since this was his first foray into a real social situation since his beloved Jenny had died a year ago, Alex had been worried. Mona had put him at ease. He’d even stopped dreading the tour.

Until this morning.

When he discovered the sexy blonde in the sleek designer suit was replacing the comfortable Mona, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t look at her. He was going to spend six weeks with this woman? He wouldn’t survive. How could he get out of the tour?

His options faded as the plane pushed away from the gate. Panic built in him.

The blue-eyed blonde leaned over. “Are you a bad flier, Dr. Myerson?” There was sympathy in her voice, which made him even angrier.

“No, I’m not!”

Rather than retaliate, which he deserved, she put her briefcase on her lap and opened it, drawing out a folder on San Francisco. She ignored him as she read.

Finally he muttered in a low voice, “I’m sorry, Miss Tyler, but I’m not sure this tour should continue. Mona—I was comfortable with her.”

“I’m not surprised. Mona is a comfortable friend, isn’t she? But if she loses this tour, she’s afraid she might lose her business. That’s why I’m here. I just finished teaching and am now on summer vacation. This tour was not in my plans, but I’ll do my best to make it successful, if you’ll give me a chance.”

That was the longest speech of their short acquaintance.

Alex drew a deep breath. “I’m used to being left alone, but I still shouldn’t have been such a bear this morning. You took me by surprise.”

“I’m sure it was a shock. I’ll try to limit our interaction.” Her voice was cool, unemotional. “Mona received some likely questions for your first interview this afternoon. Do you want to read them, or shall I read them to you and let you practice your response?”

“I’ll read them,” he said, returning to his grouchy demeanor.

She handed him the paper without comment.

It only took thirty seconds for him to erupt again. “I can’t answer these questions!” he exclaimed and practically threw the paper in her face.

Catching the paper, she read the questions.

He turned his head toward the window, not wanting her to see how upset he was.

“Dr. Myerson, what is your book about?”

He turned around to stare at her. “You’re my publicist and you don’t even know what it’s about?” he thundered.

The stewardess popped up beside their seats. “Is everything all right?”

“Yes, we’re fine,” Tabitha said calmly. “But it would be nice to have something to drink.”

“Of course. What can I get you?”

“I’d like a diet cola. Dr. Myerson, would you care for something to drink?”

“Yes, thank you. I’d like an orange juice,” he said.

They sat silently for several minutes, then his companion reminded him, “I only agreed to go yesterday afternoon, Dr. Myerson. Certainly I’ll read your book as soon as possible. I asked about your book because I’m not sure why these questions are unacceptable.”

“Those are personal questions. I don’t talk about my personal life!” He wanted to be sure she understood where he was drawing the line.

“And why does your book draw these kinds of questions?”

“It’s—it’s about my marriage.”

“And you think your wife will object?”

He hesitated. Then he said firmly, “Yes.”

Bending over, he took a book out of his laptop bag. “Here. You can read on the plane.”

“Thank you. While I’m reading, you need to think of alternative questions that you think will best sell your book. We can’t leave an interviewer with nothing to say.”

He glowered at her, but her statement made sense. Reluctantly, he pulled out pen and paper and put down his tray. “Fine. I’ll write some questions.”

Tabitha feared Dr. Myerson’s book would be as difficult to read as he was to talk to. How Mona had thought it would do him good to be interviewed, Tabitha didn’t know.

She settled back in her seat and opened Making the Most of Life. Based on what she’d seen of him, she didn’t think the title was appropriate for this man.

Before she started reading, she checked the dust jacket for his bio. There was no picture and only a short blurb, saying Dr. Alex Myerson had been educated in the east, where he was awarded a Ph.D. He’d had a successful New York City practice before moving to Texas. A few words, Tabitha thought, just like the man himself.

Opening to page one, she began to read. It was hours later when she finally closed the book, her emotions stirred. The book was a personal exploration of the marital relationship between Dr. Myerson and his wife, Jenny.

“You’re a fast reader,” he said, snapping her from her thoughts.

“Yes, I enjoy reading.” She paused, trying to think how to pose the next question she had to ask. “Your book is wonderful. It’s also very personal. Don’t you understand why the interviewer might want to ask personal questions?”

His jaw squared and he stared straight ahead. “No personal questions.”

“May I see the questions you’ve devised?”

He handed over a piece of paper. Tabitha slowly read what he’d written. They demonstrated the man’s intelligence, if the book hadn’t already done so. What fascinated her was the difference between the man beside her and the man who’d written the book. The author had had such warmth, such caring. He and his wife shared such a beautiful existence, all because his wife had taught him to enjoy life.